


Taejae Blackhole

by orphan_account



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Don't Like Don't Read, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:35:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25651459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Storehouse of incomplete drafts and ficlets.Warnings in the Chapter notes.
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Lee Taeyong
Kudos: 1





	1. Sulfur, Cherries and Humanity Be Damned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow TY is fucking a daemon.  
> #AU - Constantine (2005)  
> #minor religious content

The moment Taeyong wakes up from the pain that feels like drowning in a nasty paste made of serious concussion and getting madly stoned, the first thing comes into his mind is _h_ _oly fuck my head's gonna blow_.

And the second, he would never, _ever_ , not even in his next life—if there exists such opportunity in the desirable heaven—buy a single thing from his long-term supplier (note: _former_ supplier, as Taeyong's certainly going to expose him to the IUE for selling him faulty goods) again. 

But besides all, the problem stands out now is why is he huddling a, _what on earth_ , humanoid being that feels too pale and cold to be physically alive? Plus the, _damn wait_ , the weird sensation of something balmy voraciously engulfing his...

...his cock.

Taeyong blinks, once, twice, trying to figure things out while the world before him is still shakily blurred in dense clouds. Left hand reaches down to grip at whatever it is that wraps uncomfortably firm around his upper thigh, resembling an electric cable in strength but way softer and stickier in touch.

Dark orbs still seared by residues of the realm of the most foul slide down inch by inch, refocusing with great effort to reach the summation that it might be a tail. Oh... Oh.

It is a tail. The exorciser, or the "occult detective" as printed on his business card, blanches wild while chewing down the info with his gradually and too slowly recovered vision. It is A FUCKING TAIL rooted right above the visible _juncture_ of his gonad and, fairly speaking, a nice looking ass.

It's not that bad, really, if we can simply dismiss the fact that can be easily deduced by anybody, not only a man who has spent ages on this god forbidden specialty – the creature in his arms is no human at all, but the contrary.

Unfortunately, Taeyong cannot. Like absolutely not.

Oh yeah, he somehow is fucking a DEMON. Why and how, he loses it but God won't listen to any explanations anyway. Just what can be worse than fucking a demon? Probably fucking a demon CORPSE, given its lack of instinctive reaction, like even the should be lethal black rope has yet to crush his whole arm for the gall to squeeze on it. He better forgets about any hint of blessings and be prepared for the direct damnation to Tartarus after death.

No matter how depressing the acknowledgement is, still, this rare moment of sobriety hits and leaves as fast, mostly because how understandably hard he is with his cock still devoured by such tenderness. A generous offer no man could refuse.

Having recovered enough, Taeyong rolled them over in rough moves, pressing the front of the demon fully into the mattress before crashing himself all the way back to the nymphic streams. Trust him, it isn't personal. Taeyong almost shudders when he sinks to the farthest possible; the moisture welcomes his cruel intrusion like home, boldly presenting him the greedy pistil that needs to be wrecked. He just never excels at pretending to make love but taking what he really wants. 

Arms cage on each side of the personified depravity, he could hardly resist taking a nip of the tempting nape line. Considering whether or not he has necrophilia at this moment is quite absurd.


	2. 春江花月夜 | The Spring River Blooms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #AU - Chinese History  
> #AU - Tang Dynasty  
> #Excessive amount of historical references

On the tenth night of August, still days before the Mid-Autumn Festival and more than hundred miles away from the imperial city, one general suddenly awoke from a nightmare.

Taupe pupils, almost the same shade as the wild desert in which the troop's camp was settled, dilated due to the unexpected vision that had invaded his mind—

a jackal-headed dragon, with a sword in its mouth, leaping above the bricks and tiles of the Lucid Palace… it... it was him, all red in the gloomy sky, apathetic of the incessant screams and cries rising from the ground.

It, or he, enjoyed the living hell below, was feeding on it even.

— the young general propped himself up with a rush, only to find that his undergarments were already drenched in cold sweat; a dishevelled mess he was in. On the battlefield, for many times he had seen brutes ripping limbs, leaving the wounded to a fate worse than death, and had he never been close to such terror.

Up to centenarians that had exhausted their lives to the most, down to small children yet to be schooled, the true nature of this beast was known to all men alive. Among the nine sons of the Primal Dragon, the second was named Yázì,the most venturous, aggressive hybrid. A bad omen to dream about, for sure.

Grabbing a thick cloak close by, he strode past the remains of broken ceramic cups discarded all about, along with patches of dried wine stains, and exited the tent, into the mist made of flying sand and dust. Contrary to yesterday's revelry, the camp was quiet as dead, and he could only hear the whistling wind. In a few hours, at dawn, they should set off for the capital as planned. The sudden appearance of a sign like this, however, seemed to wish shuffling all the stones, no matter black or white, that had been well-placed on the chess board.

Once there had been Zhuang Zhou dreaming of himself turning into a butterfly; so erudite as him, still couldn't distinguish between reality and fantasy… the general skimmed through the weapon rack stood by the training ground, deciding to warm up a little before the rest of his men woke up.

Yet as the saying went, a curse and blessing always followed one another. With a [Jǐ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ji_\(polearm\)) firm in hands, he tossed the unnecessary clothes aside and poised into a combat position. Adversity waiting or not, even if it's at the Gods' will, he had never been one to just give in.

🏮

Chang'an was forever lit up by the vivacity of its numerous households. The magnificence of a city had expanded itself to an extent that no other around the world could: once entered from one of twelve grand gates, the street and lanes welcoming had no end in sight. Foreigners that were paying their visit for the first time all had their eyes opened wide in amazement, before being greeted by amicable locals.

The divine capital indeed, and [Kul Tigin](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kul_Tigin) was delighted to its guest, though uninvited.

"What a pleasure to have friends from afar!" His voluntary guides said, while showing him the way and helping him to exchange currency. He replied with a constant humble gesture, wearing the feline smile of a tiger but deceitful enough to those people he had to associate with.

The Turkic aristocrat, or at the moment under the disguise of a nameless merchant, felt like he was approaching an easy victory, especially when he knew that everyone from his scouting unit had already managed to blend in before his arrival.

The hustle and bustle of the day got to continue after sunset. There was merriment everywhere, loud and overspread through the soft lights and decorations. Kul doubted he had ever seen so many colours in the northern grasslands. All kinds of lanterns had been hung high on the eaves; the smaller ones were picked up by passers-by, as if to show off.

The government had specially set up a stage at the crossroad in the center of the city, and invited singers from the Ministry of Rites to perform for the occasion. Melodies that were usually appreciated only by the rich and powerful resounded through the streets, day and night, making everyone more eager for the formal celebration of the next day.

"A rare experience even for us!" Laughed an old man selling various figurines, mostly animals, made of golden molasses. Seeing that Kul looked bewildered at his commodity, he simply shoved a rather lively-looking rabbit figure into his hand. "Have one, sir, for free!"

He hadn't even had a chance to take a bite and it was quickly snatched away by the one walking next to him. "At the generosity of the Emperor, the curfew has been lifted." With a mouthful of sugar, the man who had been leading him for quite a while explained. His last name was… ah, [Du](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Du_Fu). A traveller just like him, Kul recalled how he had introduced himself, and seemingly a poet having some reputation, not that he would really care about such things.

They remained huddled together in the crowd that had been assembled to admire a famous chantress singing the latest masterpiece of Li Bai, who was certainly "an artist, a damn genius!" Exclaimed Du, when Kul clearly expressed his lack of knowledge and interest. He stared at the candy-rabbit, now with its tail lost, that had been so kindly returned to his possession, and listened to the other's gushing of what the lyrics meant, almost dozing off if the people around weren't so annoying.

He might call it a day, which was rather dull and routinely, until he sensed the thud of hooves and the creak of the heavy wheels coming from behind. Kul stiffened at once, and immediately turned back, trying to grasp any clue from the ocean of heads. None of his men had reported any unusual activities of the Tang army. Who the heck had the gall to break into –

"The Great General is back from the north!" Whoever it was called out in excitement, causing mass to quiet down for a split the second, even the musicians dropped their instruments.

The cheers and yells that followed were absolutely deafening.

The two men, Kul and a still rambling Du, were pushed by the horde of commoners that were all gotten carried away by the surprise to the side of the road, making way for the group of cavaliers roaring down the Road of Vermilion Bird. At the very front, a robust red horse that had been dashing proudly gradually slowed down at its master's command.

Half-covered in light armour, this man leading the troop exuded an intimidating power that was impossible to ignore.

Kul grabbed Du's wide sleeves, just preventing him from being jostled face-first to the ground. "The General, who's him?"

The other looked at him with resignation: "You really know nothing about this nation, aren't ya?"

He hummed lightly, not much of a reply.

"At least, you should've heard about the Prince of Yong, brother to the Emperor Himself, now retiring to the Anxi Protectorate."

"That, is his son." Like everyone else, Du stared at the receding figure that had gone far away in the swirling dust, with his eyes full of reverence. "Lee Taeyong, the living war-god, believed to be the reincarnation of [the Flying General](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Li_Guang)."


	3. Untitled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #AU - The Order: 1886

Sir Percival—or maybe he should get used to call him Percival Claudius after today, since his official identity has already been passed on—was never a likeable man, not to Taeyong that is. 

The fool of a knight was prejudiced, meddlesome, self-righteous, and mostly importantly, he had always belittled Taeyong's ability. Except for those occasions required by their duty, Taeyong couldn't stand being in the same room with him and he believed that this feeling was mutual.

Yet, not for a second had Taeyong wished him, an outstanding mentor and perhaps the most powerful warrior in the battleground judged from the objective view, **dead**.

“Remove the body from the council chamber and take him to the crypt.” Lord Chancellor orders plainly, his tone as condescending as always.

Taeyong stares at the man lying within the dark coffin for another second, and turns to leave as the guards start to head in.

_“The elixir would heal all wounds and extend the life of natural men, yet it cannot ensure immortality.” A young man, who hadn’t passed the adolescence for long, got on one knee and smiled rather charmingly at the overflowing distrust of the elder. All his attention had been concentrated on the small silver bottle being held in the other's hand, the container of the most dangerous secret of humanity._

_“Use it wisely. Do not give in to its unearthly allure.”_

Who knows you'd be the first one to lose, old man. Taeyong watches the copper indicator making its progress from the underground lab to the top floor. Death is not the start of anything but the end of all. Shame that you had to prove it with life.

_Hands were raised high and sturdy, and merely a few drops of the Black Water was devoured by a voracious soul._

_One day, he thought, still feeling unfulfilled as ever, I will conquer the last enemy._

The elevator arrives with a sharp "ding!" and Taeyong steps in quickly; he still has business to attend to.

_“May the Grail bless you, Sir Mordred.”_


	4. Eskhátois

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #AU - Post Apocalypse  
> #Inspired by Saikano

A lot did happen on that day the arrogant, so-called highly intelligent dominant species on earth declared war upon the gods.

Before noon, Lee Taeyong was just a careless, also good-looking senior student enjoying the last few days of his seventeen years old, spending the torrid daytime joking around with his peers and occasionally glancing towards the playground to steal a glimpse of the one he'd been sweet on for quite some time.

Seeing those lovely dimples carved deep onto the bright skin indeed could make his day, erasing all the problems in life Taeyong had to worry about.

Nobody in this school, let alone him--then still wavering over what to eat for lunch--could've expected that the coming five minutes would change the course of history forever. Frankly, it's even harder to recall the incident (if this is the right word to use) afterwards.

The P.E. instructor might be the first adult noticing that something must go wrong, as those huge, deep cracks first tore apart the open ground out of nowhere, before extending to rock the tall buildings nearby. 'An unexpected earthquake' was the sole answer he could come up with. Not letting the students fall into panic en masse, instead, this brave young man put on his composure and immediately shouted at the tops of his lungs, in order to lead the innocent younglings to the emergency shelter.

"Come close! Hurry now!" One neon-colored marker cone used for sports training was held aloft, indicating the right direction to evacuate. The instructor yelled and counted heads at the same time to make sure that everyone under his responsibility was out. "Don't linger! Your friends inside will be alright!"

_Twenty._ The tremors became more pronounced. And time's draining fast.

_Twenty-one._ The gymnasium behind him should be emptied already. The largest crevice was hurtling close. 

_Twenty-two._ God... He swallowed hard, _bless us._

There should be two more to go. He threw away the marker cone, eyes sweeping around eagerly. Damn! where're they!

"Mr. Shim! Mr. Shim!!! Help!!!" following the sudden screams, he located a girl, recognized to be the manager of the football club, making every effort but still failed to support the goal post that had fallen upon something that resembled a body.

He practically flew towards them despite the ground that had crumbled into a hell of cobweb.

"You!! To the shelter now!!" The all tearful girl was pulled away first; she sobbed, hesitated about leaving the unconscious boy, before turning away in loud cries.

_Twenty-four. Finally, the last._

With a little relief, the instructor pushed the stubborn post with all his might, hoping to free his student prior to the arrival of the mainshock. All his attention was focused on the obstacle resisting his hands, thus unaware of the beams of light arising from the chasms, creeping towards the boy lying by his feet.

_Almost, we're almost there._

Those bizarre rays began to clad the boy's body like layers of leaves enclosing a frail bud inside.

_Whoever you're, hold on._

_Just a sec more._

But too late.

A chrysalis was formed, emitting a blinding, nearly transparent glow that forced the man to be distracted from the rescue. His eyes widened in terror for the sight beneath. "What in Gods...!"

And it blasted.

//

"Do you believe that the gods have always existed alongside us?"

"They observe, tease, and enjoy our falls through some unknown form of life."

It was one of the afternoons while Taeyong was on duty for cleaning the rooftop, and also the day he talked to Jaehyun for the first and only time.

"Haha, that'd be fun, don't you think?"

He didn't understand the question thrown by the other at all, and his answer was damn embarrassing to death. Yet the first-year still smiled in such a sweet manner.

"Indeed."

//

He learns the latest breaking news once again on an old TV inside of a shattered shop window. 

It's near sunset, hours after the students were sent home to unite with family. At this time, weirdly, the surging fear and anxiety has faded into something Taeyong's unable to summarize. Behind him is the mess of a street that used to be the backbone of the capital, now filled with people covered in bloodstains, bolting about, wailing for the end of the world.

But he could see nothing, hear nothing except for the buzzing noise of broken diodes, persistent attempts at communicating with the lost schoolboy on the other side of glass.

"...twelve disastrous explosions... major cities... undeterminable loss... ”

The LED screen that had been half-smashed flickers, struggling to send out some form of visualization to be understood by the one sober mind that seems to care about knowing what's been bestowed upon humanity.

Multiple footages taken around the globe showing the same view, only different in language.

In fact, he really doesn't need to go through these fuzzy images. Taeyong turns around and stares at the darkening sky; the letters above remain sharp to read, like bruises of flesh and blood.

"WE HAVE ARRIVED."


End file.
